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“Then he’s not worthy of you, Addy.” She pushed to her feet. “C’mon.” She held out her hand. “Get up. You don’t belong on the floor, and I don’t either. We’re Footit sisters. We’re strong and proud, and we stand together. If a man wants us, he has to acknowledge our strength and our solidarity.”
“Agreed.” I placed my hand in hers, and she tugged me up. “Though I’m done with men.”
“We’ll see.” She framed my face, attempting to fix my smeared makeup with a couple of swipes with her thumbs.
“I’ll just go in the bathroom and wash it off.”
She grimaced. “That might be best.”
“I shouldn’t have worn any in the first place,” I mumbled. Glancing down at myself, I fingered the hem of the pretty new top. “Or bought anything new. It’s not me.”
The person I’d been with Barry was only temporary, a new and already distant dream. A version of myself not sustainable without his vision and caring.
Maybe another seventeen years from now, it wouldn’t hurt so badly to think about him. When and if that miracle occurred, I would remember the moments we’d shared fondly. I would remember how I’d walked at his side and not stumbled or fallen, but flew.
But now wasn’t that time. And I feared it never would be.
Barry
“Hey, Pop.” Tommy poked his head into the kitchen. “Last customer just left. I locked the front door and turned the sign to closed.”
“Great.” I cleared my throat from the heavy emotion thickening it. My son had caught me in a reflective moment. “I’m almost done setting everything to rights back here.”
Not with Addy, though. I’d fucked it up with her.
I could still see her sitting on the center island, her shapely legs dangling over the edge. Her creamy thighs had been beneath my palms, yet she’d slipped away right before my eyes.
Shifting so Tommy couldn’t see the heavy stuff I was processing, I returned the long strand of Addy’s golden hair to my pocket. I’d discovered it earlier before I’d cleaned and prepped the kitchen for the dinner rush. It was the only thing she’d left behind, that and a chasm about a mile wide through the center of my chest.
The pain was worse this time around. I’d tasted her, been inside her. I feared this time I’d suffered a wound that would never heal.
“What’s that in your hand?” Tommy asked.
“Nothing,” I said. Nothing important. She was important, not her token. Taking a page right out of Addy’s playbook, I deflected with a half-truth.
“Your expression doesn’t saynot important.”
My smart son wasn’t buying it. Like me, Tommy was a big proponent of calling shit like he saw it. Too many potential rights turned wrong when truths got buried, instead of putting them out in the open.
“Addy was here,” I said, giving it to him real.
He knew my history with her, knew why he and I had come to Southside. I’d shared everything with him before our move. Everything about ABCR. All the players during that time, including Martin. That sadistic son of a bitch would pay for hurting Addy.
I curled my hands into fists. It wasn’t anif, butwhen.
“And?” Tommy set the tub of dirty dishes he’d brought in by the commercial dishwasher and came closer to me.
“Tried to claim her, but she got away.” I rolled my shoulders to try to remove the tension that wouldn’t unwind since she left.
“She’s gotten away from you before.”
“When I was around your age.” I gave him a look. He knew leaving her behind haunted me. “My options were limited.”
“But you’re not my age anymore.” His brown eyes, the same shade as mine, gleamed intently. “Smarter, bigger, stronger, right?” He gave me my own words back. The ones I used on him when reasoning failed.
“Damn straight,” I said.
“So, go get her back.” He cocked a brow. “Use some of your options. Since they’re not so limited now.”
